


psl (pretty sweet love)

by bitchbabymurdock



Series: boy in the bubble [5]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Coffee, Fluff, Gen, author has never had a psl and you can probably tell, brief mention of stick and his training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 11:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20705453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitchbabymurdock/pseuds/bitchbabymurdock
Summary: Foggy has Matt try some coffee.





	psl (pretty sweet love)

**Author's Note:**

> same au as 'the road is long, we carry on' but can serve as a stand-alone! can be considered to take place sometime after ch 16
> 
> one day i'll have a psl and i'll add some notes to this fic saying how fukin weird my description is, but that day is not today
> 
> (also yes i edited this so it was exactly 1111 words and what about it)
> 
> (oct 11 update: i had a psl a couple of days ago and. could def taste the cinnamon and nutmeg, so i imagine it was Very Much There for matt..... personally i was ok drinking it for a lil bit but the more time passed the more i couldnt bring myself to drink it.. but it's for sure a very fall-appropriate drink! i can see why ppl like it, but i'll probably never have it again lol. i think if matts in the right mindset for slightly stronger flavors hed like it, but on days where his senses are more sensitive itd prob just taste like chunks of nutmeg and sugar....)

Matt stares down at the object in his hands with a scowl. “What the fuck.”

“C’mon, I promised the girls I’d have you try it! We need a tie-breaker to decide if it’s an awesome drink or a shitty one, and you’ve got hella sensitive taste buds.”

“So you need me to judge this weird drink?” Matt sniffs the cup cautiously, then grimaces. “There’s so much cinnamon.”

Foggy nods enthusiastically. “Just take a sip, buddy. Just enough to get a good taste.”

Matt does his best to glare at his friend before he realizes that his glasses prevent it from being effective. “You suck.”

“And you have super cool tasting skills! Now open up and taste that thing!” Foggy pushes the cup toward his lips, acting not unlike one does when trying to feed a baby. Matt doesn’t appreciate the sentiment.

“I can feed myself,” he tells him shortly before promptly upending the cup, chugging down the liquid in just a few brief moments.

“Holy shit,” Foggy murmurs. “Holy _ shit_.”

Matt puts the cup down onto a nearby table and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s edible,” he decides after a moment. “The coffee was too close to being burnt and there’s too much cinnamon in it, but it’s edible.”

“Well, that was never the issue.” Foggy pauses. “Well, not that I knew of, at least. But the _ taste_, Matt, what did you think of the taste?”

“Cinnamon. And nutmeg and clove.” He shrugs. “It’s a pretty unextraordinary drink.”

Foggy groans, dropping his head into his hands. “Do you like it or not?” he asks through his hands.

Matt lets himself take in the lingering taste in his mouth, contemplative the combination of flavors and aromas that made up the drink. “I do,” he decides eventually. The words seem to escape him, and he’s left grasping for the best way to describe it but coming up empty. “It’s- warm.”

Foggy lifts his head up. “Warm,” he repeats.

Matt nods. “Warm,” he agrees. In the ensuing silence where Foggy is probably staring at him, he squirms. “Well, I wouldn’t order it, but the taste isn’t bad. Made well, I think most people would enjoy it.”

Foggy lifts his head the rest of the way before leaning back in his chair. “I’m not judging you for liking it, dude, I like it too.” He makes a thoughtful noise, “Why wouldn’t you order it if you like it? Is there a drink you like more?”

Matt’s shoulders twitch in a pitiful attempt at a casual shrug. _It’s an indulgence. A weakness. It’s not what I deserve_, he wants to say but holds himself back. Foggy likes the drink, and Foggy has probably ordered the drink before and will probably continue to order the drink, and Foggy isn’t weak for doing so. Foggy deserves it, doesn’t he? But then why are they different? “Hmm,” Matt says.

“... Right,” Foggy replies. “Well, you broke the tie in my favor, at least, so let’s celebrate by getting a cup each! Drinking it at normal-people speed, this time.” He pokes Matt’s shoulder accusatorily.

Matt blinks. “I don’t need another drink, I just had one.”

“Yeah, and you shot it down like it was alcohol or something.” He pauses. “Have you had alcohol before?”

Matt chuckles. “Foggy, you know I have. Whenever I had to stitch up my dad, remember?”

Foggy waves a hand dismissively. “I mean, yeah, but that wasn’t _drinking _drinking. Did your abusive teacher guy give you alcohol?”

“Uh.” Was it better to tell the truth or say what Foggy wanted to be the truth?

“Don’t lie.” Well, that answered that.

“Yes? As training, though, not recreationally. It makes you less on guard, y’know, which can be dangerous.”

“Right,” Foggy said bitterly, “because that was the problem. Let me guess, he had you drink a bunch of booze and walk on a trapeze or something.”

“Not quite. He, uh, gave me enough to drink so that my senses were dulled, and then I’d spar with whoever he had prepared.”

Foggy swears violently, then shakes his head, “No, we’re going to keep this conversation happy. No more Twig talks, I’m banning it. Today’s going to be a happy, Twig-free day.”

A smile spreads across Matt’s face before he can help it. “Twig-free, huh?”

Foggy nods sagely. “Completely Twig-free,” he repeats. He swings an arm around Matt’s shoulders, smile so bright that Matt can practically feel the radiance of it against his skin. “And we’ll celebrate with more PSL’s!”

Matt laughs. “PSL?”

“Pumpkin spice latte! It’s the drink you somehow managed to taste and not choke on. It’s kind of overpriced because, hello corporation, but it’s a staple of fall.”

“Fall starts September 23 this year,” Matt tells him.

Foggy huffs, poking at his side with his free hand. “Quit it with your facts, Murdock. We’re treating ourselves today and you’re going to _ enjoy _ it.”

Matt quirks a brow at him, grinning ear to ear. “Is that a threat, Nelson?”

“You bet your ass it is. Now get your ass in gear so we can beat the afternoon rush.” He gives Matt’s shoulders a final squeeze before pulling away, but he keeps his elbow extended for Matt to grab.

They fall into step easily, years of walking side-by-side ingrained in them, and set off with light steps, Foggy chattering about a new show Marci had gone on a rampage about during lunch.

It’s part of the normal life Matt hasn’t been able to have in years, and it fills him with far more contentment than it probably should. He can hear Stick’s voice criticizing him, calling him soft and weak and pathetic, but he focuses on the way Foggy imitates Marci’s voice until it’s the only thing he can hear.

Maybe it is an indulgence, maybe it is something he doesn’t need. But if Foggy thinks he’s allowed to have it - that he _ deserves_ it - then it has to mean something.

“Thank you, Foggy,” he says. There aren’t enough words to describe just how grateful he is for his friend and everything he’s done for him, but those words will have to do for now. “Really.”

Foggy’s heartbeat is light and happy, and he gives Matt’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s no problem, buddy. What else are friends for?”

Matt hums in response and resolves to be the best friend he can be however he can. If it means throwing himself into whatever danger is brewing in the city then so be it - he’ll help Foggy as much as Foggy’s helped him, even if it’s the last thing he does. He owes him that much, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!


End file.
